


Dull Boy

by hit_the_books



Series: SMPC [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Porn, Betaed, Coda, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time, Episode: s01e05 Bloody Mary, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn With Plot, Sam Blames Himself, Sam-Centric, Season/Series 01, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:25:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Sam can still feel the tracks of blood running down his cheeks, still feel the terror and relief of having Bloody Mary seek to give him what he clearly deserves.He shouldn't be on the road with Dean, he's sure of it.





	Dull Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Sunday Morning Porn Club](https://smpc.livejournal.com) and it's my first time writing for them C:
> 
> Thanks to [majesticduxk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk) and [WetSammyWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester) for being my beta readers on this.
> 
> And I hope you all enjoy this story as much as they did when reading it.

Light from the bathroom floods the motel room. Dean’s gargling mouthwash, getting ready to head out for the night. Sam’s curled up on his bed, watching Dean’s shadows flit across the doorway, knees curled up towards his chest, cardinal red Stanford hoodie stretched over his long bent legs. He’d changed into sweats and the hoodie as soon as the room door had closed behind them.

Sam still isn’t himself—not that he probably ever will be again—but he can’t bring himself to go cruising bars or hustling pool. He can still feel the tracks of blood running down his cheeks, still feel the terror and relief of having Bloody Mary seek to give him what he clearly deserves.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Dean calls from the bathroom. He pokes his head around the door frame, shoulders enticingly bare, and grins at Sam. “C’mon, Sammy, sure you don’t wanna join me?”

“Pretty sure,” Sam mumbles. “And it’s Sam, not Sammy.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t hear ya. Speak up, Sammy.” Dean steps out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips. His chest is still damp from the shower, droplets sliding down pale skin—making Sam’s heart beat faster in his chest.

And as if he wasn’t already feeling guilty about Jess, Sam’s all kinds of weighed down tormented by still being out on the road with Dean. Sam tries to come up with something to say, but anger at himself bubbles up and burns the back of his throat, so he stays quiet as Dean comes to stand beside his bed. Sam’s of the opinion his brother belongs in the Louvre, not in their crummy motel room with suspect stains and smells. But Dean smells good, freshly showered, minty fresh, with gleaming green eyes that Sam always has to stop himself from falling into.

“Come on, it’ll be just like old times. Only you’re legally old enough to drink now, so better.” Dean winks, clearly on the charm offensive and it makes Sam hurt even more. He doesn’t deserve Dean. He shouldn’t be in the same room; he sullies Dean with his presence—but it doesn’t stop Sam from wanting. Sam tries to find some words, but his mouth is dry at the sight of Dean, dick working to betray him should he move from his hunched up position.

At first, being on the road with Dean, aside from being riddled with guilt over Jess, wasn’t so bad. But the more time Sam spends around his brother, the more he remembers some of why he left for Stanford in the first place. Desires that had been just blooming when Sam was not long turned eighteen have flowered again. He worries Dean will see him for what he really is.

“I can’t, Dean.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Flashes of Dean getting close to a warm body—leggy, brunette—play across Sam’s mind’s eye. He balls his hands into fists as they rest against his hoodie covered knees.

“I’m gonna stay here. See if I can get a lead on where Dad wants us to-”

Dean’s jaw clicks, smile straining. “You know all work and no play makes Sam a dull boy, right?”

A water droplet drags its way down Dean’s chest. Sam wishes he could lick it. He swallows. “Heading into a bar isn’t what I wanna do tonight.”

“Less than twenty-four hours ago, you almost bled to death out of your eyes, and you don’t want to go and live a little?” Dean sits down on the edge of the bed, and Sam can feel his brother’s post shower warmth radiating out towards him. Like it’s seeking him out.

“I wouldn’t call playing pool and drinking beer... living.”

“Well what would you call it, huh? Kinda on a tight budget here, Sam.”

“I know.”

“But we can have _some_ fun. So, c’mon. Get your glad rags on, and let’s hit the town, or what passes for one here.” Dean gently punches Sam’s left arm. It doesn’t hurt, but the friendly contact makes Sam shiver. Dean frowns and scoots closer to Sam, towel straining to stay closed around Dean’s waist. “Hey, you okay, man? You coming down with something?”

Before Sam can say anything, Dean brings the back of his right hand to Sam’s forehead, as if feeling for a fever. Sam’s Adams apple bobs and he tries not to jerk away from the contact.

“I’m fine, Dean.” Sam nudges Dean’s hand away, but Dean stays where he is on the edge of the bed. Sam swallows hard. He can’t handle this—he should just give up on the idea of working with Dean to find who killed Jess. God, how can he be in mourning for Jess, but ache for every touch that Dean deigns to bestow upon him? Sam shakes his head, trying to get his bangs to cover his eyes, so Dean can’t see right through him.

“Bullshit you’re fine. You have another dream while I was in the shower, huh?” Dean gazes at Sam with concern and hurt in his eyes. But if Dean thinks Sam’s been having his nightmares then there’s no way he’s going to leave Sam, and he needs Dean to leave—for Dean’s sake. There’s no reason for Dean to see what’s really going on with him.

“No dream. Just sitting here thinking.” And that’s the truth, Sam notes to himself, because he was thinking, just nothing Dean should ever hear about.

Dean frowns, clearly not believing a word of Sam is saying, even if it’s close enough to the truth. “What about?”

“Uh… maybe I should go back to school,” Sam lies.

“Oh...” Dean gives Sam a hurt glance, eyes lowered more than usual. “That why you got your hoodie on?”

“No, I was… I was...”

“What?”

Sam shakes his head. He can’t keep talking, not with Dean nearly naked beside him. Desire snakes through Sam, pulling his muscles tight, making his stomach hurt. He doesn’t know what he wants, other than Dean, naked and below him, taking whatever Sam gives. And guilt bubbles up, making Sam feel as if he’s betraying Jess’s memory while simultaneously feeling revolted at himself.

Forget going back to school, he just wants a chance to not be conscious of the simple fact that he’s a terrible human being. Alone he could punish himself for betraying both Jess and Dean. Keep both Jess’s memory and Dean safe.

“For- stop thinking, Sam. What the hell is up?”

Dean looks at Sam like he needs a real answer this time. He un-sticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and draws in a lungful of air. “I don’t want to go.”

“You can’t just stay here.” Dean glares at Sam.

“Of course I can. Stayed back a hundred times before when you’ve gone out to a bar… Never bothered me to be alone while you sunk some pool… found some woman to be… y’know, with.” Sam offers a weak smile. “I’m used to staying back, alone.”

“Yeah, well… maybe you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m fine… Look, I’ll just cramp your style. You don’t want your little brother tagging along.”

Dean frowns, anger giving way to confusion. “Look… I’ll stay here then.”

Sam gulps. He needs a chance to be alone, to bail out the need that’s making the skin on the back of his neck prickle. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Opening his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue. Dean gapes at Sam like he’s grown two heads, which wouldn’t be wholly inaccurate. “So you just don’t want me around, huh? Well fine.” Dean bolts up from the bed, towel falling from his waist as he does, and Sam thinks he might die at the sight that greets him—dusky treasure trail leading to Dean’s not insubstantial soft cock. “You don’t have to put up with me. I’ll go by myself. Fuck!”

Dean stomps off across the room to his duffel and starts grabbing clean clothes for the evening. He snaps his eyes in Sam’s direction and huffs out a breath. “If you wanted me gone, you should have just said.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Then what the fuck is it like, Sam? Because right now it sure as hell seems like my brother is sick of the sight of me. Dammit, I thought we were doing better. I thought-”

He’s unsure when he’d uncurled his body, but Sam slides off his bed and stalks over to Dean, legs jerky and fast. Sam ignores how his dick is betraying every fucking move, he just gets right up in Dean’s space, shoves at him, making Dean turn and face him. The golden flecks in Dean’s eyes shimmer in the half light from the bathroom.

“What the hell?!” Dean squawks.

Words fail Sam. He didn’t have a plan when he got up from his bed. His body speaks instead, making him bring his right hand up to Dean’s left cheek. He cups Dean’s face, touch tender, and expects Dean to flinch away from him like he’s being burned. But Dean doesn’t fall back.

Sam steps in closer and presses his lips to Dean’s, stomach flipping as he does.

Dean’s rigid in front of him, body hardly moving, not a single breath. Sam pulls back, chest heaving and definitely tenting his sweats. Slowly, Dean opens his eyes, cheeks warming to a blush in the low light. Sam could count his freckles.

“Dean, I-” Sam starts, but doesn’t get to finish as Dean crashes their mouths back together, hauling Sam in. The harsh press of lips makes Sam’s legs feel like jelly and it’s Dean who’s holding him up as they kiss, mouths hungry, tongues flicking out to meet each other.

Moans rise low in both of their throats and Sam’s body lights up as Dean begins to grind against him, slow and dirty, definitely hard. Dean breaks the kiss and they gasp for air, legs shaking. Suddenly they topple onto Dean’s bed, Dean under Sam, Dean’s evening outfit under Dean. Sure hands reaching out for him, Dean draws Sam back down into another kiss, and Sam roughly pushes his tongue past Dean’s lips as their hips rock together, the dragging press sings through Sam’s body.

Dean pulls his mouth back and looks up at Sam, body heat bleeding into Sam as their bodies continue to seek out any touch of friction they can get. Hair sticking every which way, lips kiss swollen and tasting of mint, cheeks red, Dean looks like pure temptation and Sam is happy to fall with him, if Dean really does want this.

“Dean?”

His brother huffs out a breath and pushes up, kissing Sam’s jaw. “Dammit, Sammy. How… long?”

Sam gulps and whimpers as Dean starts sucking at the left side of his neck. “Too long.”

Dean’s mouth comes off with a wet pop and Dean nuzzles at the underside of Sam’s jaw. “Shoulda said somethin’.”

Shifting his weight wholly onto his left arm, Sam snakes his right hand down between the two of them and pulls his sweats past his erection. Bobbing free, Sam gets a hand around both him and Dean, making his brother cry out, hips eagerly thrusting into Sam’s hand.

“Sssshh, got you,” Sam promises, voice shaking. Pre-come slicks his hand as Sam fists the two of them. He lowers his lips to Dean’s and licks his way into his brother’s mouth. Sam’s light headed as his hand works the two of them over, brain not quite caught up to the fact that this is happening, but the twist in his stomach as his blood thunders in his ears and Dean’s cock weeps in his hand is all real.

A shaky whine works its way out of Dean and his hips stutter as he comes between them, hot and thick. The sudden damp warmth makes Sam groan loudly into Dean’s mouth and he thrusts faster into his fist, his stomach tightens, on the edge of pleasure until one last jerk finally sends Sam crashing into oblivion, vision whiting out.

It takes a minute or two for Sam to come back to his senses and he catches his breath as Dean nuzzles against him.

“You’re heavy,” Dean grunts out.

With a wordless apology, Sam rolls off of Dean, and lays out on the other side of the bed. Dean shifts and brings up the shirt he was going to wear and cleans them up, diligently wiping up their mess. Dean chucks the t-shirt and positions himself so his body is curling towards Sam’s.

Sam rolls onto his side and looks into Dean’s eyes. “Dean… I...”

“Save it… I’m just... happy.” Dean leans in and gently kisses Sam, marking him as worthy.

Hearing Dean say that, feeling the warmth of his brother’s mouth—the guilt fizzles out of Sam, leaving only regret for what happened to Jess. Regret for how long he’s taken to show Dean his true feelings. He’ll live with it, but he’ll never apologize for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).


End file.
